


Not Wrong

by Charante_Leclerc



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 08:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7795357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charante_Leclerc/pseuds/Charante_Leclerc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seb is moving into a new place, but what will it have in store?</p><p>For theianitor on the Summer 2016 Fic Exchange!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Wrong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theianitor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theianitor/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own, nor profit from

Seb hated moving, dismantling and flat-packing his life into a few boxes. This time it was a least a little bittersweet, moving from possibly the crummiest (and cheapest) flat he had found in London, to something that at least had a view out of the window. A view other than a brick wall half a metre away. That wasn’t to say that his new place was a penthouse, but now he had a permanent job, a small amount of savings, and the satisfaction of telling his parents that Skype nights wouldn’t be marred by banging on the walls and stoned yelling from the corridors.

 

“Hey, you need a hand?” A voice called down the stairs, and Seb looked up to see a lazily handsome man standing at the top, smirking down at him. “That box looks a little heavy for you.”

 

“I’m stronger than I look.” Seb mumbled, shifting the box in his hands. “This is the last one anyway, thanks.”

 

The other guy’s smile got larger, putting his hands up in a placating manner. “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend. I’m Jenson, I live at number 38. You must be moving into flat 41?”

 

Seb nodded, putting the box down on the floor so he could hold out his hand. “Sebastian.”

 

Jenson nodded, giving Seb’s hand a quick shake. “I won’t keep you, if you need anything just come and knock. Oh, and watch out for the Ghost, he likes to wander the corridors every few nights. See you around.” And with another grin, he disappeared down the stairs, no attention to Seb’s gaping face.

 

“Ghost?!”

 

o0o

 

The lights flickered above Seb’s head, feebly trying to hold on. Seb grimaced, standing up from the sofa, and as he did so the flat was plunged into darkness. “Fuck.” He groaned. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

 

There was a gentle knock at the door, echoing eerily in the dark. Seb made his way slowly to the door, bumping into at least three objects in the room, and would make for some lovely bruises on his shins tomorrow. He opened the door, blinking into the corridor. Someone was standing there, but the corridor had suffered the same as his flat, and there was no light from either end, nor any of the closer flats.

 

“Hello?”

 

“It’s me.” A familiar voice came from the figure in front of him. “Jenson.”

 

 

“Hi.” Seb replied dumbly. “Er...”

 

“I have candles in my flat, and wondered if you wanted to join me, at least until the power is back on.” Jenson rushed. Seb frowned gently, did Jenson sound worried? Was he scared of the dark?

 

“Sure, let me just find my keys. And some socks.” Seb muttered, heading back into the flat, bumping into more furniture in his attempt to find socks. He finally came across some, scattered across his bedroom floor, no doubt they wouldn’t match but it would do for now. “Okay, I’m back.”

 

Jenson hummed, standing back slightly so Seb could lock his door. It was only a short distance to Jenson’s flat, and standing in front of it, Seb could now see the faint glow that came out from underneath the door. “At least you’re prepared for this, I don’t think I even own a flash torch.” Seb joked. Jenson gave a small laugh, almost under his breath.

 

“This place has a lot of these. Black outs, I mean. It’s an old building and the landlord doesn’t want to waste the money rewiring the electric, or something. There’s been about 5 this year already, you learn to be prepared. Most people now, if it’s as late as this, tend to just go to bed now.”

 

“And you?” Seb asked. “Not following everyone else’s example?”

 

“I don’t sleep well.” Jenson admitted, looking sheepish in the low light. “Never have done. And you?”

 

“Working.” Seb replied, yawning and stretching. “I work in aerodynamics, big presentation coming up, just trying to put a little extra in to it.”

 

“At 2.30am?” Jenson laughed. “Must be some big presentation.”

 

“I don’t believe in doing things half-way.” Seb replied. “The minute you start doing that, is the day you’ve lost it all. Say, you start slacking off only a little to start with. But then that feels like you’re putting all your effort into it, so you start slacking off a little more. And suddenly you’ll find that you’re putting no effort into whatever you were doing, and that’s when you end up disillusioned.”

 

“You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?” Jenson asked softly. Seb nodded.

 

“I’ve seen people around me do exactly that, I’ve worked so long to get to where I want to be, that I can’t let it slip through my fingers now.” Seb shrugged. “What about you, what do you do?”

 

“Journalist. Sports journalist.” Jenson replied. “I used to be a racer, but got too old, or the competition got too young. One of them.”

 

“Ahhh I can imagine it, you standing on first place, family cheering, beautiful girlfriend waiting…”

 

Jenson coughed, almost embarrassed. “There was never any beautiful girlfriend. There never will be either.”

 

Seb gaped, staring at Jenson in the low glow of the flat. “Er… beautiful boyfriend?”

 

Jenson laughed, a little more relaxed. “Hopefully there will be, but back then there never was. Wouldn’t be ‘good for my image’, y’know? That’s what everyone always told me anyway. It didn’t really matter anyway, didn’t want just one person when I was younger.”

 

“And what about now?” Seb asked. “I mean, you’re not old, and you’re good-looking, I’m sure anyone will snap you up.”

 

“I don’t know whether he wants to be ‘snapped up’ though.” Jenson looked at Seb directly, his gaze meeting Seb’s. Sudden realization dawned, and he almost wasn’t aware of him moving closer to Jenson, clasping onto his neck and pressing a chaste kiss to Jenson’s lips.

 

“Tell me I’m not wrong about this.” Seb whispered, pulling back far enough to see Jenson’s face. Jenson smiled, wrapping an arm around Seb’s waist, drawing him back in.

 

“You’re not wrong.”


End file.
